Without a doubt, the hardest part of living abroad is being so far away from my family. Many of you know I’m just a wee bit obsessed with my nephews, Nico and Paul. Maybe obsessed is an understatement …
Today, Tony and I were shopping at Kohl’s when my sister, Kate, called. “We took a wrong turn and headed towards Pontiac instead of Utica,” she sighed. “We’re gonna be another hour and a half at least.” After I told her how stupid she was, she shouted, “Just kidding! We’re almost there.” Tony and I bolted to the check-out and raced to the car.
On the way back to my mom’s house, I told Tony, “Don’t freak out Nico by attacking him right away.”
“I know, I have to let HIM come to ME,” he said. I love that Tony adores those boys as much as I do (almost).
Of course I didn’t follow my own advice. I ran into the house and nearly knocked over my sister and her husband with big hugs. Nico laughed, so I scooped him up and gave him a noisy kiss. When I put him down, he ran off and yelled for me to chase him. Unfortunately, Kate’s cattle dog, Sydney, came flying around the corner at that moment, sending Nico airborne. The poor kid did a total WWF flip and slammed down on his back. Lots of tears. Lots of hugs. And everything was OK again.
We only spent a few hours together today, but there were so many adorable moments. They drove to our lake house, and I gave 3-year-old Nico a personal tour. He was hilarious.
“This is Aunt Shari’s bedroom,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “Hmmm… and what’s this?”
“That’s the bedspread,” I said.
“Oh, OK,” he said.
When I took him and his brother to the basement-cum-playroom, they shot some Nerf hoops for awhile and then Nico said, “S’cuse me, where’d a lot of toys go?” Apparently I hadn’t bought enough.
The boys took stale hotdog buns to the dock to feed the ducks. At first, we tossed bread chunks to a couple of disinterested waterfowl, but soon the ducky grapevine spread the news that we had snacks and no customers. Ducks came paddling at top speed from all over the lake and knocked each other out of the way to get the bread. Two-year-old Paul could barely contain himself. Every time a duck gobbled a piece of bun, Paul screamed with excitement.
I hated to send the gang back to Mom’s for the night. (On the other hand, I’m sure I wouldn’t have time to write this if they were still here.) Can’t wait to see them in the morning!
Paul scopes out the ducks.
“Here. Here. Here. Here.” Nico tossed the bread like it was his job.
Looking at fish.
